


Tea for me, Tea for you

by StripedSunhat



Series: A Village of One [3]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, I love Zoing, Pre-Canon, Tea, Why Klaus needs therapy, Why Sparks need therapy, tea quality as a litmus test for parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 18:08:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16068506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripedSunhat/pseuds/StripedSunhat
Summary: Complex constructs are capable of being as sophisticated as any human, as complicated and contradictory, capable of growing and changing and deciding things for themselves, far past what their creator might have imagined for them.  But simple constructs are just that: simple.  They'll have one or two driving forces which they shape their existence around and they will not ever veer from them.Zoing has two such focal points.Tea.And Gil.





	Tea for me, Tea for you

**Author's Note:**

> Zoing is so hard to write. His accent does. Not. Have. Spaces! It is not fun!  
> If anyone needs a translation for him, please don't hesitate to ask. I wrote it and I have a hard time understanding it.

Now, his son did not and had never liked tea. However, he was also singularly brilliant. As such when he built a tea-making construct said construct would know how to make tea.

So why then was it that Gilgamesh’s construct did not seem to be able to grasp the concept?

The thing was, Zoing’s brewing skills were never consistent. He’d make perfectly acceptable brews; except for when he didn’t. Case in point: the weak, bitter cup the construct had followed him back with.

In an effort to ignore it Klaus turned to the reports that had apparently been important enough to call him away from lab time with his son. An hour later he’d determined that four of the problems they should have been able to handle on their own, three of them weren’t worth his time, two of them were only issues if one was grossly incompetent, but one of them did actually warrant his attention. It took another two hours to sort everything out (achieved, in reverse order, by troubleshooting, yelling, delegating and encouragement-by-way-of-glaring). He stretched out his achingly stiff shoulders and looked up. The tea was still waiting for him. Except now it was weak, bitter and _cold_. There was a plant in the corner of his office. He wasn’t quite sure how or when it had gotten there – he suspected one of his underlings had brought it in to make the room either less depressing or less terrifying depending on who it had actually been. Klaus dumped the tea into the dirt and went to bed.

* * *

Zoing was a young construct. He was still growing, so to speak. And he was sophisticated enough of a construct to be capable of learning and adapting. As such Klaus had to expect a learning curve to come with it.

So Klaus did what he could to aid with that. He bought books on the history of tea preparation. He brought every variety of tea blends he could acquire to the lab’s tea station. He helped Gilgamesh build said tea station. As far as he could tell none of these things sparked any improvement.

* * *

Klaus had a theory. Zoing could prepare good tea in the lab where he knew where everything was. He spent most of his time in the lab; the entirety of the tea station had been designed specifically for him. Outside of the lab however his unfamiliarity caused him to flounder and panic. And the result: bad tea.

For example: the tea he’d shared with Gilgamesh in the lab last week, perfectly acceptable. Far too sweet, but Klaus was more willing to put that down to the pot being brewed to his son’s still developing tastes than anything. The tea Zoing had brought Klaus when bickering nobles had caused him to postpone his latest experiment with Gilgamesh, horrible. Klaus had actually felt a bit bad dumping it in his plant. The poor flower did not deserve it.

* * *

Klaus stepped into the jäger generals’ personal quarters still paging through the intelligence reports in his hands. “I need you to take a look at –” An absolutely delicious smell wrenched his attention away from his reports. The generals were sitting around the table covered in the remains of afternoon tea. Dietrich was tucked into the corner with a steaming cup in his hands. “What –”

“It’s Zoing’s!” Dietrich said, which explained next to nothing. He took a long sip from his cup. The smell of it made Klaus’s mouth water. It figured the first decent cup of tea the construct made in weeks would be squandered on a jäger who thought live crustaceans were food.

“Ve asked Zoing to bring us some tea,” Goomblast said. “Vhen Dietrich came back vith some tings Zoing vent and got him a cup too.”

“And does Zoing often bring you tea?”

“Occasionally,” General Zog said. “Eff ve ask nicely. It’s always vonderful. Hyu boy should be proud; he made a fine construct. It’s a shame hyu didn’t come by earlier; hyu could haff joined us.”

Klaus stole another glance over at the half-full cup in Dietrich’s hands. “I wouldn’t have had time to stay anyway.”

“Dat’s too bad. Now, vhat is it hyu came here to tell us?”

“I need you too look over this intelligence from the western border and see if it matches up with what your jägers have been reporting to you.”

“Ov course Herr Baron,” Zog said, taking the papers with a nod of his head.

The aroma of the tea followed Klaus out as he left.

* * *

The generals did not make a habit of visiting the labs.

But Zoing regularly brought them tea.

_Good_ tea.

Well there went that theory.

* * *

Klaus could not go to sleep.

It’s a pity his eyelids seemed determined to disagree with him on that point. Every ten seconds they dropped, forcing Klaus to pry them open again. And every time he raised them their weight multiplied on itself, making it harder and harder to do so. But he couldn’t sleep. Not if he wanted to have _any_ time with Gilgamesh tomorrow.

He’d already had to cancel and or walk out on his son eight times this month. Which didn’t sound like much until one considered it was the seventh. He’d seen his son for more than two minutes all of once in the last fifteen days. All while being aboard the airship and at least theoretically available _the entire time._ This had to stop.

The letters on the page swam in front of his face. His eyelids began their downward assault again.

That was it. He pushed away from his desk with a huff. A walk. Maybe getting his blood flowing and the cold air will wake him up.

The hallways were quiet. Not empty of course, the way the airship ran there was never a point when the hallways were empty. However there were periods of time when the normal hustle slowed and you could find empty stretches of the halls long enough to at least pretend you were alone. Klaus meandered around in the vague direction of one of the observation decks, checking in on various labs and offices as he went. The more he checked now the less likely there’d be an explosion he had to deal with tomorrow.

As he went, Zoing scuttled past down an adjoining hallway with a teacup. Klaus blinked. He leaned forward and peered down the hall. No, he wasn’t hallucinating. That really was his son’s construct. He picked up his pace to follow. Three hallways later he was convinced they were heading for the school. Gilgamesh knew better than to be up at this time of night. Sure enough though Zoing continued down the halls until he slipped into Gilgamesh’s room. Klaus stayed where he was a few paces back.

He should go in there. But what was he supposed to say? Should he lecture him for being up this late? Ask him why he was still awake? What if it had been bad dreams? Would it be better or worse if he went in?

Before he could make up his mind the door opened and Zoing slipped back out holding a now-empty cup. He turned and began scurrying toward the direction of the kitchens. As he reached the end of the hallway Klaus stepped out in front of him, blocking his path. Zoing jumped backwards letting out a loud surprised screech. The teacup dropped to the floor and rolled on its side. “What is Gilgamesh doing up at this time of night?” Klaus demanded.

“Gilseep,” the construct replied.

“If he were asleep you wouldn’t be bringing him tea.”

“Ibringseeptee!”

Klaus froze. “You what?” he hissed, rounding on the little creature.

“Gilneeseep.” Zoing picked the cup up from where it had fallen. Klaus snatched it out of his claws.

“Using your tea to drug m–”

“Nodrug! Tee!”

“If you ever drugged anyone with your tea I promise you it would not end well. Rogue constructs do not survive long.” Because what was the middle of the night for if not lecturing constructs on the ramifications of potentially drugging people? “I will not risk a dangerous construct near my son.”

“Ibring _tee_. Nodrug. _Teeee_.” Klaus stared down at the construct for a long moment before finally deciding to believe him for now. He still tucked the cup away in his jacket for testing later. Just in case. “Klausseep?”

He glanced back down at Zoing. “Unfortunately no.”

Zoing narrowed his eye at Klaus. “Klausneeseep!”

“Probably,” he admitted, too tired to fight the point, “but I don’t have time for sleep right now.”

“Klausneeseep!” Zoing repeated more forcefully.

“Not unless I want to give up any chance of spending any time with Gilgamesh any time this week.” Zoing made a small questioning sound. “I need sleep but I need to finish my work more. If I don’t finish it now I’ll have to finish it tomorrow during the time I would have been spending with Gilgamesh. I need sleep but I need to spend time with my son more.” Klaus ran a hand through his hair. It was late; he was sleep deprived. He’s going to blame that on why he’s acting so maudlin.

Zoing blinked up at him. Then without a word he pushed past Klaus down the hallway. Perhaps he should find some etiquette books rather than just ones about tea. He glanced over at Gilgamesh’s closed door. Gilgamesh was probably already asleep by now or at the very least halfway there. If Klaus went in now he’d just wake him up. He turned and headed back to his office. Hopefully he was awake enough to manage at least five minutes of work before fighting his own eyelids.

He only managed to organize the paper warzone that had broken out at his desk before a yawn cracked his jaw. Wonderful. Already beginning at a disadvantage. He picked up the first report anyway. Before he got more than two lines in the office door opened letting in Zoing carrying a large heavy looking teapot. He set it down at the edge of Klaus’s desk and pulled out an empty cup from the pocket of his coat. He set it down next to the teapot.

“Worktee!” Zoing then patted Klaus’s knee, nodded sharply and left.

Klaus waited but he didn’t come back. He shifted his attention to the teapot. Thank you but very much no.

The walk had helped nothing. Klaus’s eyelids continued to try every tactic to close themselves. After ten minutes he threw the intelligence report he’d been trying to read down. He was still on his first report, he’d barely made it halfway through it and he could not remember what it said if he had a deathray to his head.

The teapot still sat at the edge of his desk.

Well even if it was bad the horrible taste might wake him up slightly. Reaching across the desk he poured himself a cup and dragged it towards him.

It wasn’t too late to change his mind.

If it kept him awake he’d try just about anything. With the same determination used for poison and anything made by Doctor Sun Klaus downed a quick mouthful. He nearly dropped the cup and had to scramble to catch it before any spilled.

The tea was perfect.

It was just on the right side of bitter, strong and almost scaldingly hot. When had Zoing learned how to brew tea like this?

You know what? He didn’t care. Whether it was practice or an abomination of science or even dark magic it didn’t matter. He already felt more awake than a minute ago. He took another drink and got back to work. He might actually get to see Gilgamesh tomorrow after all.

* * *

Residue testing of the cup Zoing had brought to Gilgamesh proved there was nothing unusual in the drink. Simply chamomile tea and a great deal of honey.

* * *

Klaus was ready to climb the walls. At least then maybe Sun would take it as a sign he was well enough to be given his notes back. He couldn’t believe Sun had actually drugged him. Why did he put up with that senile tyrant? Surely there had to be _someone_ with comparable medical skills. The door creaked open. Good. An assassin would give him something to do.

Rather than entertainment however a small nonhuman head poked through the doorway. Zoing pushed his way into the room carefully balancing a steaming cup of tea in his claws. He darted over to the small empty table at the side of the bed. Halfway there he stopped. He looked Klaus up and down then looked at the teacup. He looked at Klaus again. Then the cup. He turned back towards the door. Before he reached the door he stopped. He fiddled with the teacup in his claws. Turning back around he returned to Klaus. Stopped. Went back to door again. Stopped.

Klaus watched him scuttle back and forth across the room for several minutes. It wasn’t idiot-with-a-weapon levels of amusing but at least it was something. Finally Zoing stopped in the middle of the room. Making a quiet, indistinct noise that reminded Klaus of someone grumbling to themselves he scuttled out of the room completely taking the cup with him. There went Klaus’s distraction. Probably for the best. A dubious cup of lukewarm tea didn’t sound appealing at the best of times.

He stared up at the ceiling and tried to go back to planning out a new fire suppression system. Useless with no way to record his thoughts but he had to do something to pass the time.

The door slid open again. Zoing came back in cradling a new cup. He set the cup down on the table and left. Klaus looked over at the cup. With one finger he gingerly pushed it as far away as he could. No thank you.

He promptly forgot about it all the way until Sun noticed it on his way out from checking him over the next morning. “When did you get tea?”

“Zoing brought it last night.”

Sun peered down at the cup. “It’s still full.”

“I didn’t want it.”

“What are you talking about? You love tea. You’ve always loved tea.”

“Didn’t want to risk it.”

“Didn’t want to risk it,” Sun repeated. “Scared of a cup of tea," he said shaking his head. "You are ridiculous. And people are actually intimidated by you. Klaus it’s a beverage not a bomb.”

“Clearly you’re forgetting poison is technically also a beverage.”

“Your. Son’s. Construct. Is. Not. Trying. To. Poison. You. And I’m having you stay another night for observation.”

“You said I’d be free to go this afternoon.”

“That was before you accused a helper construct of attempted murder.” With that he left, leaving the cup behind and returning none of Klaus’s notes.

Klaus glared at the cup. He was not scared of a cup of tea.

He wasn’t.

With a dark mutter he grabbed the cup of the table. The tea was fine. Stone cold but fine. Had he drunk it when it had still been warm it might have even been considered good.

The one Zoing brought him that afternoon was fine too.

And the one he brought him that night.

When Zoing brought yet another cup to his office the following day, Klaus didn’t even think anything of it. He was far too busy trying to wade through the mess his little vacation to the medical wing had left. Without looking up he closed his hand around the cup and downed a large swallow.

It was only sheer willpower that he managed to resist spitting the entire mouthful across his desk. That was _disgusting._ He stuck his tongue out and actually scraped his hand across it in an attempt to remove the taste. Sweet lightning, what was that?

Klaus stared down at the cup. The tea didn’t _look_ any different from the one last night. It didn’t smell any different either. Clearly _something_ was different though.

Unbidden he remembered the indecisive way Zoing had acted when he brought the first cup. Had – had he been waiting until Klaus had been out of medical to give him bad tea?

No. Zoing was a simple construct built by a child. (A brilliant child, a perfect child, _his_ child, but still. A child.) He wasn’t capable of that level of planning. Klaus was just being paranoid.

* * *

When he dumped the rest of it in his tea plant it had let out an audible gasp, withered up and _died_. Testing proved there was nothing else in the cup. The tea had just been that bad.

* * *

Klaus stared at the perfectly wrapped package on his desk. Should he send it down to Gilgamesh now so that he could open it on the actual day? Or would it be better to wait until after he gets back so that he could be there when Gilgamesh opened it?

He toyed with the edge of the wrapping. Bonding. Opening it together would be an important father-son moment. He should wait.

But dates were important too. The absolute last thing he wanted was for Gilgamesh to think he didn’t see the day as important. Or even worse, _forgot_ it.

He could leave a note. That way Gilgamesh would know he was thinking of him. He would know there was a present waiting for him and could anticipate receiving it when Klaus got back.

Hadn’t he written enough notes for his son explaining his delays and absences already?

This would be so much _easier_ if his magistrates had simply done their jobs so that Klaus didn’t have to _leave_ to go clean up after them.

He delicately lifted up the gift and picked up the reports under them. He set the package carefully back down and stared at the papers. Then he lifted the hurricane of his lamp and shoved them into the fire until they were nothing but ash.

That… was supremely stupid of him.

Satisfying. But stupid.

Well it wasn’t like he hadn’t already memorized all the information in them anyway. Or the important parts at least. His advisors could fill him in on anything he couldn’t remember later. Wasn’t that why he had advisors in the first place?

Klaus dropped his head into his hands, rubbing at the headache forming behind his temples.

His office door creaked open. Unless it was a messenger coming to tell him his magistrates had sorted everything out and everything was fixed he was stabbing someone.

“Squee!” Zoing was standing in front of him, brandishing the mug he used when in the lab with Gilgamesh. Sturdy and slightly chipped by now. It held probably about two normal cups worth of tea and right now was filled to the brim with… something.

Whatever it was it certainly was not tea. The liquid was only semi-fluid and a sickening shade of greenish brown with visible chunks floating in it. Zoing knocked the cup against his elbow until Klaus finally took it or else risk it spilling across his desk. He really regretted not replacing his plant yet. Once Klaus had a grip on the cup Zoing pulled a slightly crumpled note out of his jacket and held it out as well.

**Father,**

**I know you’re busy getting everything ready to leave. So I asked Zoing to bring you some honey-tea to help.**

**I know you wouldn’t leave unless you really, really had to. We can celebrate my birthday after you get back. I know how ~~important~~ time consuming the empire is.**

**I’ll see you when you get back.**

Klaus folded the note back up and carefully slipped it into his own pocket. His gaze caught on the present still sitting on his desk. He wrenched his eyes away from the reminder. They landed on the drink still held in his other hand.

He set the cup down on the far edge of his desk.

Zoing didn’t move.

“Thank you Zoing.”

Zoing still didn’t move.

Klaus leaned over his desk to get a better view of him. Zoing stared up at him unblinking.

He was waiting to take the cup back to Gilgamesh wasn’t he? And he wasn’t going to leave until Klaus had drained the entire thing.

Steeling himself, Klaus took the first sip. It was the single most vile thing he’d ever tasted.


End file.
